


An Alien Abduction

by humansandotherpeople



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humansandotherpeople/pseuds/humansandotherpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which you get to be the Fourth Doctor's companion. And fall in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Alien Abduction

He is tall enough to stand out in a crowd. That's how you see him the first time: standing out in a crowd. You notice the scarf first, and then, a close second, you notice that the entire crowd is aiming firearms at him, like the weirdest flashmob you've ever seen. You're not in on the joke. You didn't even bring a gun. You were just going for a walk.  
He raises his hands to the height of his head, very slowly, and begins to reason with the ones closest to him. You don't hear what he says. Around him, some lower their guns. Some shout at him. Some argue amongst each other. You marvel at how afraid he so obviously isn't, and you wish his voice would carry all the way to you.  
Then he's looking at you. He starts smiling while he's still talking, and he winks.  
Suddenly he points a finger at you and proclaims loudly: "You. You are doing it right! I like you!" and for a second, everyone's attention is on you, and he runs, shoving people to the side, scarf and coat fluttering. It's a small miracle that he doesn't lose his hat. After the initial moment of shock, the crowd is after him.  
You stand forlorn, suddenly at a loss about what to do with yourself.  
A shot sounds from the distance. You hug yourself and hope he isn't hurt.  
After some time, someone taps you on the shoulder. It startles you perhaps even more than the shot did.  
"Excuse me. But I believe these rather unpleasant fellows might be coming back for you, now that they won't be able to find me. Would you care to come with me?"  
He isn't hurt. His voice is unfathomable. His eyes are the approximate colour of magic.  
You follow him.  
"What's happening here?", you ask.  
"An alien abduction", he says with the gravest sincerety and the widest grin you've ever seen, respectively.  
From then on, your life dissolves into a blur of danger and violence and near-death experiences, but it always works out. You cling to him, you cling to his voice. When he says your name, it takes on all properties of a spell, and sometimes he pronounces it as though it were the most important word in the universe.  
But then, sometimes he doesn't look at you or listen to you for days, and just when you think you can't bear it any more he grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze.  
He starts introducing you to aliens and historical figures and ordinary people and combinations thereof as his "second best friend". In a rare moment of quiet you ask him who his best friend is.  
"A phenomenal person", he says. "But don't worry, so are you."  
The weird thing about this best friend of his is, he doesn't seem to be having permanent contact to anyone but you. But of course, he could sneak out while you're asleep. He could stay out for two weeks while you're getting seven hours of sleep.  
You wonder if he ever sleeps.  
You wonder if he ever sleeps with anyone.  
You've never seen him sleep, but you have seen him unconscious. These things happen. And when they do, you check for his life signs frantically, two heartbeats, faint breathing. Sometimes those aren't there, then you feel for the area over his respiratory bypass, like he eventually taught you, and to date it has always been heated. You stroke springy hair out of his face, and you check for his heartbeats another time, although you know they'll only resume when he awakes, but then you'll be pretending nothing happened anyway.  
You can't count the times you've saved each other's lives anymore.  
Then comes the first time you kill someone to save him. It also happens to be the first time you've killed anyone at all. You stand shivering and very nearly crying while he kneels next to the corpse that's bleeding out on the floor.  
"Poor sod", he says to it, shaking his head ever so slightly. "This has not been a good day for you at all, has it? And I'm afraid I can't do anything to make it better now. I'd love to stay around and chat, but I can't. I have to see to my assistant."  
You can't even begin to describe how afraid of him you are right now.  
And then his hands are on your back and he presses you against him and you are sobbing into a green bit of scarf.  
"Shhhh", he says, very close to your ear. "We're leaving now. Dreadful place."  
The first time he kills someone to save you isn't the first time he's ever killed someone, and yet you hold him because you feel it's necessary. You support some of his weight, another first, and you like it. You tell your body this isn't the right time to have reactions, and your mind that it isn't the right time to have thoughts; his hands are literally covered in blood at the moment, for god's sake. All to no avail.  
At least he doesn't notice.  
You get problems like this all the time. You want to laugh at it, but you can't when you're hiding from a headmistress with delusions of demonic possession, cowering under a desk with him, your heart pounding and way too much of your mental energy concentrated on how close he is, and the way his waistcoat brings out his hips.  
All of a sudden he grabs your shoulders, stares into your eyes.  
"I've just realised something important."  
At the other end of the classroom, the headmistress is roaring. You hope his epiphany has something to do with defeating her more quickly, and that he won't let go of your shoulders.  
"You are in love with me", he observes.  
"I thought it might just be Stockholm syndrome", you retort weakly.  
"I assure you, it isn't. I am a Doctor", he grins, and holds a finger to your lips as if he's shushing you. "No kissing while we are in danger, it distracts me."  
So, does that mean...?, you think. "So, does that mean...", you ask, but now he does shush you, and the finger presses against your lips vehemently. The headmistress is coming closer. She passes your desk. His fingers dig into your shoulder. She is heading, if a bit erratically, for the door. Yes.  
And then she opens the door, and the bucket of holy water you placed above it comes crashing down on her. And then cursing, but it's not the demon kind of curses, but the wet elderly lady kind.  
His whole face turns into a grin, and he finally moves the finger away from your lips. "It worked!"  
"So can I...?", you ask sheepishly.  
"Of course not! Are you mad?! We poured a bucket of water on the headmistress' head! The danger's just started!"  
With which he unfolds his limbs and leaves you hugging your knees, staring at his legs and listening to him attempting to explain.  
Is it just you or is it taking you longer than usual to get back inside the TARDIS?  
"Now?", you ask the second the doors close behind you.  
"You think that you are safe here?"  
You're trapped between him and the door and he's not even touching you, how does he do that. You say something, you don't know what, you have an idea that it probably didn't make much sense.  
Suddenly, a hand on your upper arm, gliding down your arm, closing around your wrist. He lifts your hand all the way up to his lips and kisses your palm, the joints, then up your index finger.  
"Yes, of course you can. I'm not keeping you."


End file.
